Forever Feline: Walking the Ages
by FaerieKnight197
Summary: His name is Midnight, and he has been wandering the Earth for a very long time. He is tired and world weary. But old soldiers don't die, and some aren't allowed to fade away.


_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, Highlander, Doctor Who, Inuyasha, Ranma 1/2 or any other fandom which might crop up or be referenced. This work of fiction is written for fun and because I enjoy writing. As such I am not making any profit from it. I'll claim ownership over the character of Midnight/Katt Mann, but that's pretty much it for this story that belongs to me. Well other then the idea for the story it's self.

 **Foreword:**

This is actually two intertwined but separate stories about the same person. One follows the main character through various points in their long life. This is told in first person format, as if it's an autobiography. These sections are always in italics. The second story is the main protagonist's adventures in 'modern' times, set roughly around 1997. Originally I was going to have each section in the past be 'written' by Midnight within the modern time story. This can be seen in the opening of the first 'modern' segment. I'd also originally wanted to do a brief unrelated scene for modern times. That plan flew out the window when I realized I unintentionally had a much larger story arc planned.

The character of Midnight/Katt Mann originally stems from a Werewolf: Dark Ages game I was in for a while. Later I showed the character to the GM of my new gaming group, and he liked it. He was including Highlander stuff in his world setting, which inspired an Immortal version of Midnight to be created. But this story is _not_ set in White Wolf's world of darkness. In fact it has nothing to do with the WoD setting other then the origins of Midnight's character. Rather, this is an Alternate Universe which incorporates Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, and Highlander primarily. And now, on to the story.

 **Forever Feline:**

 _ **Walking the Ages**_

 _by_

 _Faerie Knight_

 _The first thing I clearly remember is my mother. Her fur was black as midnight. Speaking of which, that's my name. Midnight that is, not Mother. I don't remember much of my early years. I remember the garden, and Mother's warmth. I remember an odd two legged animal that would occasionally come to visit us. I didn't know at the time this was a human. He smelled a little like Mother though, and she tolerated him. Well, she tolerated him more then the two legged one that brought us meat anyway. Life was pretty simple then. And in the years to come I'd sometimes wish it had stayed that way._

 _That life came to an end the day I sneezed and my fur melted away. My legs changed, becoming something strange and unfamiliar. The world gained color. Glorious and confusing color. For the first time in my life things were not shades of gray. I couldn't smell things as well, nor hear as well as I should. Despite the new found color the world seemed paler to me. The two legs said something, not that I could understand it. The tone however was soothing. Mother whined at me to go to the two legs. That it could teach me now._

 _That was the first time I shifted. But it wasn't the last. It was the day I first entered into the world of Man. I was just a cub at the time. In human terms, I might have been six or seven years old. Anymore I can't remember the two legs's name. But I came to call him Father. He was a minor noble in an island nation known as Japan. He was proud and strict. But Father was also fair and caring. It may seem a strange dichotomy by today's standards._

 _But Father was a man of his times. And I was his adopted son. He raised me with love, taught me honor, and taught me the most important lesson of all. He managed to instil a sense of justice which even now guides my actions. If I'd known what fate had in store I'd have never left home. But I hadn't wanted to rule. By the time I was grown Father had another son, one who did want to take over the fief. So with Father's blessing I went out into the world to find my own place in it. If I'd known what the future would hold I might not have gone. But I didn't know. And perhaps that's a good thing._

 **XxXxX**

A man leaned back from his typewriter. He looked to be in his early twenties, maybe a little older. His skin was an olive hue which indicated oriental decent. Although he was rather tall for coming from that area of the world. At five foot eleven he towered over many of his countrymen. His rich black hair too was atypical. It was shoulder length but well maintained. His brows were thin, rather aristocratic looking in fact. He wore faded blue jeans with a plain black tee shirt. The jeans were held up by a belt. It's buckle was shaped like the kanji for 'night'. He read over what was written and sighed.

"Still it isn't right. Or maybe I'm just being too hard on myself. It's not like I need the money. Anyway, I should head out. The shop will not run it's self."

He put on a weather beaten and faded stetson, grabbed his keys, and left the house. His destination wasn't very far so the man decided to walk. Soon he was approaching an occult book store called A Man Abroad. He smirked to himself just before opening the door. _Calling myself Katt Mann this time, a stroke of ironic genius._ He turned on the lights and flipped the sign to say that the store was open. Walking back behind the counter he pulled out an antique cash register dating back to the year 1859. That it still worked as well now as it did when first made was a testament to the care the old register had been given.

Many would claim such an antique belonged in a museum instead of in a store being used. And yet Katt Mann preferred to use such an old device. Modern registers were confusing to him. And computers were just plain baffling. Eventually he knew he'd have to learn more about the new technologies. But for now the tried and true were good enough. _A new start in a new city, what a perfect way to rejoin humanity. I wonder how long I must wait before I get my first customer?_ Katt thought to himself.

The question wasn't answered for two hours. It was a teenager, female with short red hair. She seemed a little nervous. Almost as if she wasn't suppose to be here. Considering it was a school day, and approaching eleven in the morning she probably wasn't. As the girl looked around she seemed disappointed in what wares were on display. All Katt had on the shelves were incense, harmless books on mysticism, and various crystals. Nothing which could potentially cause any harm. Even the herbs he had for sale were useless in real magic.

The few candles in stock also were useless. His supplier was someone Katt trusted with his life. And she had ensured each candle would disrupt any ritual they were used in. In his life Katt had seen real magic. And it tended to cause more harm then it prevented. So a teenage girl getting upset that his 'occult' bookstore was all new age spiritualism and other harmless stuff was alarming. It meant this girl was messing with the real thing. And that never ended well. Even his supplier, a practicing mage, admitted magic caused more problems then it's worth.

"Can I help you?" The shop keeper asked.

The sole customer let out a startled "eep" before fleeing the store. Later in the day an older gentleman, British by his bearing, entered the shop. This one carried himself with a barely perceptible hint of guilt. Katt could practically smell the taint of dark magic on this main. A taint which was fading to be sure, yet still present. The man browsed the shelves carefully. Finally the older man chuckled and approached Katt. The shopkeeper waited patiently for his customer to speak. Finally the other man cleared his throat.

"Would you by chance have a copy of the Infernal Demonica for sale?" he asked.

This caused Katt to raise his left eyebrow. "And what would make you think I possessed such a thing?" Katt asked in return.

The other man smiled slightly. "The shelves are too carefully stocked, and I noticed the nature of the candles. Madam Barnsworth's work if I'm not mistaken. You went to a lot of effort to prevent someone from messing with magic with your wares."

Katt raised his opinion of this man just a hair. "No, I don't have that particular tome in stock. If I may, why do you need it?"

"My own copy was destroyed a few months ago, and I suspect the Infernal Demonica may hold information useful for a crisis which arose."

Any further discourse was brought to a halt as the door chimed. In walked a blond teen, kind of short for her obvious decent. And the hair of this girl didn't look to be naturally blond. She froze upon entering the store. Then almost before Katt could react the slip of a girl was across the room with a sharpened piece of wood in her hand. Katt dove over the counter, pulling his customer off the man's feet in the process. With a cat-like grace he rolled to his feet. Then Katt noticed his hands were now covered in black fur and resembled paws. His ears flattened as Katt hissed at the girl.

She was fast, and surprisingly strong too. But then Katt was fast too, and no slouch in the strength department either. He also was experienced in fighting things stronger and faster then himself. After making sure his customer was safe Katt leaped over the counter once more and grabbed a cane. This was used to parry another thrust from the sharpened piece of wood. The gentleman who'd been talking with Katt had blanched upon seeing his form shift. The girl on the other hand seemed spurred on to further violence.

"Is there a particular reason you're trying to kill me, Slayer?" he asked. "Or are you another one of those mindless sacrificial lambs the 'watcher's council' likes to turn out? I was unaware selling books on meditation and spiritualism was a danger to anything except a lack of patience."

The gentleman paled further as he remembered more about this type of being. He reached up and pulled off his glasses. As the British man polished the said optic devices he spoke "Stop Buffy, the leopard clan has a long history of protecting humans from the supernatural."

 **XxXxX**

 _I was a young man, barely twenty, the first time I died. After leaving home I'd become a wandering samurai you see. Not Ronin, but close enough that it didn't really matter. Unlike many fellow samurai I actually cared for the commoners and lowborn. Maybe it's the fact that my mother lived in a gilded cage, as did I until the first change. Anyway, there was rumors of a shugenja named Agasha Kusabi causing trouble in a small village. I can't remember the name of the village anymore. It's been far too long since then._

 _I'll be honest, I've never liked dealing with magic. In fact I flat out hate dealing with it. But I'd known I would need protection if I wanted to stop the shugenja from killing again. To this end I went to a seer that I did trust to get an amulet. Okay, so I didn't really trust him. But he hadn't betrayed me yet and that was good enough at the time. The amulet was suppose to protect me from any lethal spells. And in a way I suppose it did. It wasn't a way I'm particularly fond of however. Still, I'm alive and Kusabi isn't so that says something right there._

 _Anyway I confronted Kusabi in the early spring. With my new amulet I figured it was safe to do so. Of course, I was a young fool back then too. But that's beside the matter. The rogue shugenja pointed a stick at me and spat out a couple quick words. Can't remember exactly what anymore. And then a sickly green energy shot from the stick towards me. To be perfectly honest, I was surprised. I'd thought magic required rituals to use. Or prepared scrolls which have to be burned while you chant. That's the only way I'd seen magic being done before after all._

 _The energy struck my amulet and passed through it. And let me say right here and now, whatever spell was cast, it HURT. Equally painful was my protection amulet exploding from being overwhelmed. When I came to the crystal which had been the amulet's center stone was embedded in my chest. I was also laying on a table in an unfamiliar room. Kusabi was in the room too with his back turned to me. I stealthily got off the table and crept up on the madman. One twist of his head later and there was a very dead man laying at my feet. Thankfully the madman had also brought my sword._

 _That was my first death. To this day I still have the crystal shard which saved my life. Years later I learned it was a piece of a much larger crystal. One which was said to make whoever wore the completed crystal immortal. Apparently shoddy spellwork and a death curse interacted with the shard in an odd way. It imbued me with a form of immortality, but not the same as the lightning scents. I couldn't gain power by killing their kind, and assume they wont get any power if they manage to kill me. I'm not in a hurry to test that theory though. Stupid lightning scents, it'd be nice if they stopped trying to take my head._

 **XxXxX**

Katt groaned as the alarm clock went off. He'd recently moved to England. Oh sure he'd gotten that man in Sunnydale the information he needed on the demon lord problem. But Katt knew better then to stick around a place with a xenophobic Slayer. Learning that sleepy little town had housed a nexus of Evil known as a 'hellmouth' was even more reason to move. He'd dealt with one of those back in the early 1800's. One was more then enough for several life times, thank you very much. Sure he owned the house free and clear. But until he could either get a new shop opened up or he started writing a new book boredom was a problem.

Katt Mann had the distinct impression this neighborhood didn't want him around though. There was nothing overt or anything. Privot Drive was just too 'normal'. Houses looked identical. Yards looked identical. It was as if someone took a picture of the perfect home from a 1950's magazine and turned it into a street in modern day Surrey, England. When he went out to eat he had to wait to be seated, sometimes even if he was the first one there. Store clerks would occasionally close their registers when he approached. And he could swear people stared at him from behind their curtains as he walked down the street.

It had been a long time since he'd last been in England. Not that most people would realize this since Katt appeared to be in his early twenties. He'd considered opening a shop in London, but there was a problem with that idea. An old friend had recently moved into that city. And Katt was well aware of the trouble that usually followed Duncan. Trouble which he'd rather avoid. So the man had instead moved here in the hopes not being near Duncan would mean the lightning-scents wouldn't find him.

Deciding he'd spent too much time writing, Katt went out for a walk. With his black slacks, white shirt, and black blazer jacket he looked very much like a young man who should be in an ivy league collage. Or rather he would if he was in America and was Caucasian. Shortly after leaving the house Katt had bought he spotted a sign for Chessington Zoo. While normally he avoided such places due to finding them offensive, this time Katt felt drawn to visit it. The fact he felt the need to visit a hated place was a tad alarming.

In his life the only times Katt had felt such a compulsion had all gotten incredibly complicated. And dangerous to boot. As such it was a rather cross Mister Mann who entered the zoo. His mood didn't appreciably improve upon watching a whale of a man scowl and only reluctantly buy a cheep cone of ice cream for a boy who looked entirely too thin. The wind shifted, causing Katt's scowl to deepen. While his sense of smell was vastly dulled in human form, it was still sharp enough to pick up the fear this malnourished boy felt around what seemed to be his family.

Another boy, by appearance around the same age as the skinny one, was eying the cone greedily. Judging by the fact this boy was rather obese he didn't need any additional sweets. Let alone the eight scoops of frozen treat being consumed already. As unobtrusively as he could Katt followed the family group. He noted two others, clearly friends of the overweight kid. Also of interest to him was that the skinny boy had a rather distinctive scar. Unnaturally so in fact. He'd seen a scar like that once before. Absently the man rubbed a spot on his chest.

 **XxXxX**

 _At first I hadn't realized anything had changed. Well, other then my location and my armor being destroyed that is. You have to understand, times were different then. It may be trite, but it's true none the less. I was Ronin. Sure I still had a family name, that hadn't been taken from me in dishonor. And yet by my own choice I had no Lord. Thus I was considered an outcast from society. Since I refused to be a criminal this left me with mercenary work to earn money. Oh sure, Father would have happily financed me. But I didn't want a handout._

 _Because of this I didn't actually have access to a mirror. Living on the road and in cheep inns doesn't provide much in the ways of luxury. I traveled the countryside protecting merchants from bandits for pay. And in any village I visited I kept an ear out for threats to my countrymen from supernatural quarters. This was how I first met Kagome. Who's Kagome? That's a rather complicated story. Let's just say meeting her for the first time was my big clue I was going to live a really long time._

 _Of course, meeting her was also my first real meeting with a demon. Until then I'd dealt with a couple unruly spirits with the aid of priests. Beyond that it was weres and the occasional being I later learned were called faeries. I traveled with her group for a month. It was during that period she let slip meeting me before. Oddly enough Kagome claimed to have met me hundreds of years in the future. In fact, she claimed I baby sat her a couple times._

 **XxXxX**

People visit the zoo to see wild animals, creatures they might otherwise never experience in their life. They marvel at the animals contained there. They gawk at the antics of beasts both majestic and humble. And yet they also forget that they are not seeing wild animals. They are seeing caged animals who are fed regularly. It's hard to appreciate how dangerous a lion is if all you ever see it doing is napping on a rock. Nor do you understand just how frightening a crocodile can be when you're safe behind the barrier.

So it should come as no real surprise that people on Privot Drive didn't notice the panther in their midst. After all it was night time and the great cat stuck to the shadows. While the people didn't notice a predator amongst them, there were several house cats who did. Wisely enough, they decided to stay home this particular night. Stealthily the feline crept through the street towards it's destination. It paused in amusement at a tabby cat which was watching the target house. This tabby smelled equally of human, a trait the cat had only experienced with weres before.

A low rumbling purr sounded, startling the tabby. As she spun around the panther watched in amusement. _"Settle little cousin,"_ he said to her. " _I'm not hunting. Well, not for food."_

" _Well I never,"_ The tabby replied in a huff. " _Why are you here then?"_

The panther thought for a moment. _"There is a kit in this two leg cave in need of love. One already hurt by a bad two leg, marked by Mother Moon and Father Thunder. I shall claim this kit from those who harm him."_

From within the building both felines heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. And there was exclamations of anger over 'being a freak'. This caused the panther to hiss angrily. Before the tabby's eyes the panther grew in size, nearly double it's original mass. It also appeared to regress several evolutionary stages, now resembling a jet black sabertooth tiger almost the size of a horse. With a swipe of powerful claws the front door was shattered. With ears laid back the great cat burst through the entry way.

In the wake of this the gray and black tabby sauntered into the home unnoticed. She witnessed the, admittedly frightening, feline stalk towards an overweight man and a painfully thin boy. The primitive panther swatted the overweight man across the living room. This caused the man to impact a couch and lay there stunned yet otherwise unhurt from what the tabby could see. She watched as the massive cat gently picked up the boy by the back of his oversized shirt. The cat then carried the boy into the middle of the room. Razor sharp claws next cut away the boy's shirt.

With the garment removed both could see bruising old and new. The tabby winced at how deformed the boy's chest appeared. That likely signified several broken ribs. A potentially fatal injury. When the panther shrank back down to it's previous size and began to lick the boy the tabby came to her own conclusions of what should be done. She grew and shifted. Soon where the tabby cat had been was a stern looking woman. She wore a gray dress which reached her ankles. On her head was a gray 'witch' hat, it's peak bent over due to age and wear. She also wore a pair of square frame glasses.

The boy's injuries were visibly fading as the great cat licked his wounds. The boy soon had fallen asleep. With the life threatening injuries mended, the cat carefully nudged the boy onto his back. With a look which seemed to say 'Well, are you coming?' the panther then sauntered out the ruined front door. The woman decided that yes, she would follow the panther. The child seemed to wake up for a moment. It was just long enough to wrap his arms around the panther's neck. That was a gesture which showed a lot of trust on both parts.

The woman was lead several blocks to a small house which looked nearly identical to all the rest in this neighborhood. The grass was more wild, and the hedges weren't neatly trimmed. These were the main differences. She was lead around to the back of the building. There high wooden fences protected the yard's privacy. Yet another difference from other homes in this neighborhood. The large cat approached the back door and pawed at a flower relief carved in said door. A faint click sounded. Afterwords the panther entered through the door, which was acting like an oversized cat door.

About a minute later there was another clicking sound. A Japanese man opened the back door and stepped aside. The woman took in his casual dress with a raised eyebrow. His chosen attire would have looked perfectly in place a hundred years ago. _Or in wizarding society,_ she noted wryly. She took in the dark brown overcoat and off white shirt. The ruffled collar and wrists looked very out of place in the modern times. His slacks were also a dark brown color, but looked loose and easy to move in. He bowed in greeting and stepped aside. The woman noted that this Japanese man didn't actually invite her in though.

Once they were both inside he lead the woman into a sitting room. On a small two person couch the boy could be seen sleeping fitfully. The silence in the room slowly became almost deafening. He tried to alleviate this by preparing tea in the traditional way of his homeland. The soft tisking sound of a bamboo wisk stirring tea leaves within the pot was soothing the woman noted. The ritual almost had a magic of it's own. The cups in her opinion though were entirely too small for a human to drink out of. Finally he spoke, but surprisingly his accent was not as thick as expected.

"Welcome to my humble abode. My name is Mann Katt, but you may call me Katt. If it would please you, may I inquire as to your identity? And why did Midnight bring this boy to my home?" His eyes twinkled in amusement as the man spoke.

Instead of giving her name right away, the woman asked "How much do you know of wizards?"

Now normally she'd never have asked that question. But the panther had been clearly more intelligent then it should have been. Thus she came to the conclusion it was this man's familiar. The unusual method of healing the panther had used also furthered this assessment. There was also no signs of a wand anywhere. While most would thus assume Mr. Mann to be a muggle, or non-magical, she had seen enough in her life to know not all magic was the same. Hence her question to the man before her.

"Not much I'm afraid. The only 'wizard' I have encountered was named Merlin Ambrosia. And that was back when I first came to Europe. I have had more dealings with spirits, oni, and elemental then magic it's self. Even then I do not wish to seek out such things these days."

 _Merlin's beard!_ The woman thought. _That would make him over two thousand years old!_

"Five actually, but who's counting?" Mr Mann commented wryly. "And I actually met Merlin in the year eighteen thirteen. Although at the time he was going by the name Ziggy Humpherdink. Now I believe I had asked about this child?"

 **XxXxX**

 _Anytime someone tells me time travel would be 'cool' or 'awesome' I feel this barely controlled urge to hit them. It isn't fun or glamorous. It generally only goes one direction too, backwards. That is unless you are the being calling himself The Doctor. I've met him a few times. I've spoken with a few of his traveling companions. And there is only one thing which I can really associate with The Doctor's appearances. That's bowel loosening terror. You see, I've never met him when world wasn't in extreme peril from one thing or another. Usually it's from extra-terrestrial origins too._

 _I remember November 20th, 1813. That was the first, but certainly not the last time I encountered The Doctor. I'd met a man called Ziggy Humpherdink. I guessed that wasn't his real name though. After all, he was a lightning-scent. And they rarely used their real name. A few do, Duncan being a prime example of those who do. But even he waits a generation or two before using it again. Normally I try to avoid lightning-scents. After all, most want to cut my head off._

 _Ziggy though was one of the rare friendly ones. He was also in the 'beat down on supernatural evils' line of work. That man just did it in a different way. While I prefer a sword and direct confrontation, he did some sort of energy manipulation. Anyway, we were in the middle of Indian country. No, not India either, but in the American west. Few white men ventured that far at the time. The most prominent ones were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. I find it amusing that they were practically forgotten about for nearly two hundred years after the now famous trip._

 _They'd encountered many wondrous things. But there were also a few things of great concern they reported upon returning in 1806. Those aspects of the report were disregarded by many. But not me. I'd felt it important to follow up on it. From the sounds of it the duo had managed to barely escape the attention of an oni clan. A particularly vicious oni clan at that. While there was a definite mindset of the natives being savages of no real importance, I disagreed._

 _After all, in my homeland anyone not from Japan was considered a barbarian of no significance. In my travels. I've come to conclude that view is very wrong. When I left Japan they had been barely better then the European lands. Okay, we had villages and cities instead collections of huts. And we didn't charge into battle wearing nothing but paint on our upper torso and face. And yet in Scotland I found a people who although more savage, were also as noble as my own. Usually. Thus I treated the Indian tribes with respect. Their culture was no less deserving of existing then my own after all._

 _Ziggy too was heading to investigate the oni clan. Although not for the same reasons as I was. He thought there was some sort of disruptive energy in the area he had to deal with. As it would later turn out, he was right. But that is getting ahead of myself. Once we were both away from civilization we both revealed a few secrets. I changed into my birth form for extra speed. And Ziggy? He became an honest to gods dragon. I've never been more scared in my life then in that moment. Well, at the time it was the most I'd been scared. I've since encountered worse frights._

 _And when I say dragon, I'm not talking about the ones from my homeland that look like flying legged serpents. Nor the ones wizards are probably familiar with like the Hungarian Horntail or Welsh Green. No, I mean 'classic' dragon. The kind described in the tale of Sir George or that you might see in a movie or gaming book. Four legs, each ending in wicked talons. Then there's the large lizard like head with more teeth then I care to see in one mouth. Sharp ones too. Scales that were blood red, or maybe fiery red, it's hard to tell the difference between shades of crimson when you're terrified. And finally the wingspan, easily sixty feet from wingtip to wingtip. I never did try for an accurate assessment of how long his dragon form was. All I can say with any accuracy is it was Big._

 _I'm not afraid to admit I yowled in terror as the giant flying lizard grabbed me and took off. And I didn't stop for hours. Not until we landed and I was once more on solid ground. To this day I still am afraid of flying. And who can blame me? Once I'd managed to calm down, and we'd both regained a human form Ziggy began to talk. He told me of hellmouths. And he told me about how we were now a couple leagues away from one which was going to be ripped open in ten hours. He then told me that our destiny would be found as we resealed this hellmouth._

 _Talk of destiny makes me worried._

 _Long story short, yes we did manage to reclose the hellmouth. But in the process we both got pulled into the damned thing. It wasn't a 'hell dimension' we emerged in though. No, it was an area I recognized from my youth. But it was much more wild then I remembered. No buildings or anything. Ziggy sat up and sighed tiredly. I didn't quite understand why at the time. Full understanding would come eventually. And in time I would agree with him. My second time living through 1813 I made absolutely sure to avoid him or that damned hellmouth._

 _Why? As he explained his real name wasn't Ziggy, it was Merlin. He'd been born in June of 1750. Which you might consider odd. It gets much much odder. You see, I was apparently fated to travel with him to close that hellmouth. He's done that trip with me thousands of times now. Maybe more. The poor man is trapped in an endless loop. Somehow his actions the first time around had prevented his own birth. But knowing an open hellmouth is a rather bad thing, Merlin took it upon himself to close it again. Thus creating a perpetual loop. And each time I get caught in his destiny._

 _Thankfully for my sanity, I'm not trapped in that loop. I was smart enough to avoid any place I was previously. But living five thousand years wears on you. Eventually you start to question why you fight. Before I got thrust back a little over 3600 years into the past I'd already become a little world weary. And by 1918 I was ready to leave Man's world forever. But you know, forever is a long time. And even a self imposed exile must eventually come to an end. Fate and Destiny wont let me abandon the world of Man._

 **XxXxX**

The woman frowned a little as she considered Katt's released information. While it was doubtful Mister Mann actually had met Merlin, legends did talk of a large black cat which was popularly thought to be a familiar. And how did he know what she'd been thinking? From the chair she was sitting in the stern woman eyed the boy widely considered the savior of the wizarding world. Soon his acceptance letter would be sent off. But from what had been seen and heard this night it was doubtful the youth would have survived to receive it.

Since contemplating the possibility that Katt had met Merlin was too absurd, she instead decided to tell the man about the current situation. "His name is Harry Potter. Ten years ago he saved the wizarding world. And until tonight I had no idea he was being abused."

Mister Mann smiled grimly and said "Then we have several things in common, little cousin."

She raised an eyebrow questioningly since little cousin was the same thing the panther had called her. "And what is that?"

Mister Mann smirked as he spoke. "I too become a cat. Or rather, I too become a human. And I also care what happens to this kit. I suspected abuse after what I saw in the local zoo. And then there's his scar. No one survives a death curse unless the kami have plans for them. The kit will need training if he's to survive what will come. This may be why Mother Moon guided me to him. She has a fondness for heroes, you see."

The woman frowned slightly. "And how would you know this, Mister Mann?"

Katt sighed and pulled off his shirt, revealing a lightning bolt shaped scar on his chest. "Because, little cousin, I too have survived a death curse. And I've had the opportunity once to speak to a kami of fate. If any number of things had been different, I would not be standing here today."

 **XxXxX**

 _The fates wont be denied. This is a lesson I learned a very long time ago. Try as you might, you can't resist their plans. And the harder you fight them, the more likely you are to do exactly what they want anyway. The good news though is they aren't cruel. They just view things in the long term. Bad news is they have a sense of humor. Take me for example, I should have died when I was in my twenties. And in a way, I did. If any number of things had been different I'd never have woken up. If the man I hired hadn't used the crystal shard he did as a basis of the medallion, if the spell had hit me in a different location, if I'd worn the damn thing over my tunic instead of under it..._

 _But the fates had decided I had a Destiny, yes with a capital D. In their infinite wisdom they decided I was vital to keeping the world spinning. So things had worked out just right to allow me to continue living. If I hadn't been there in the early 1800's an ageless wizard might not have been able to close the hellmouth when it was opened. Nor would he have survived his travels in the years immediately after being dropped off in the distant past. Not with his magic drained to such a dangerous extent from the trip. So there we were, sitting in a forest that one day would be a great city named Tokyo._

" _Midnight," he said to me, "there are a great many things which I must do. Events which must be set in motion, and people I must meet. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on my travels for a century or three?"_

" _Why me?" I asked him suspiciously. I still hadn't known just what had happened yet._

 _The man I knew as Ziggy chuckled before answering. "Because legends will speak of a panther that walks beside the great Merlin. And another will say how the Age Walker is so clever he stole the tail feathers of a phoenix and blamed it on a powerful wizard."_

 _I remember groaning at his answer. Mine is a legend which I'd rather didn't exist. And I wasn't entirely sure how or when it started. Even before my first death I'd heard legends of the Cat who Walks the Ages, or the Age Walker. Among my people it's rather popular to try finding the Age Walker. Young kits do so either to try getting training, or for the fame of actually proving he exists. Since were cats had been trying to find the Age Walker since before I was born, I'd always assumed the legends surrounding him might deal with multiple cats. And it annoyed me that my own exploits got lumped into the legends._

 _Granted, I didn't want the fame of people thinking I am the Age Walker. I actually find the whole thing kind of embarrassing actually. So I was actually glad when I encountered a pride of were cats on our way through what would later be known as China. What made me glad was that inquiries into the Age Walker were met with blank stares and questions. It wasn't until three days later that my traveling companion started laughing. Well, I say he started laughing but that's not true. He'd been trying to resist since leaving behind the pride. Finally I got tired of it and asked him what was so funny._

" _You realize you just started your own legend, right?" He told me._

 _As I said before, I hate destiny._

 **XxXxX**

"A Man Abroad, Katt Mann speaking. How can I help you?" Katt said as he answered the phone.

The man who was placing the call chuckled at the pun, and wondered if it was an alias or real name. "Greetings Mister Mann. My name is Rupert Giles, we met a few months ago in Sunnydale."

There was a pause on the other end of the line which lasted almost a minute. Finally Katt asked "Ah yes, the Englishman on the path of redemption. I assume the mess with the Judge has been resolved then?"

Rupert sighed. "Yes, but not without it's problems. But that is why I'm contacting you. Do you know of anyone trust worthy who can handle both a magic cleansing and instruction to a neophyte earth witch and provide martial training to another young man I work with regularly?"

Rupert could practically hear the exasperation. Eventually the oriental man asked "Who are you sending to me? And why?"

So the watcher started to explain what had happened since the Judge had been dealt with. He told of all the mistakes both he and his charges had made. And he told of how close the world had come to ending. Finally he explained about the curse cast by one of his charges. This in turn lead to explaining about the two different possessions the other charge had experienced. It also had meant explaining how the first possession had been dealt with as well. By the time he hung up the phone Rupert's ear was ringing from being scolded.

Once his hearing recovered Rupert returned to his living room. There sat two of his young charges. The first was a teenage girl who had an overly conservative mode of dress. Her name was Willow Rosenburg, and it was mostly for her sake he'd contacted a being they'd only briefly met the previous year. The other was a somewhat gangly teenage boy who was wearing an eyesore of a Hawaiian shirt. Under ordinary circumstances young Alexander Harris would not have been included in the plans. That had changed however when Rupert had learned the boy's parents were abusive drunks.

The boy had not returned to his home since that revelation. Learning this also had granted an insight into the boy's personality and motivations. That knowledge actually scared Rupert a little. They were more similar then Alexander knew. In fact Rupert thought it a minor miracle the boy had found Slaying as an outlet. While dangerous and ultimately self destructive, it at least helped protect others. This was the core difference between them. Rupert in his youth had also turned to a self destructive outlet to escape his home life.

His outlet on the other hand had been hurtful to others, and ultimately lead to a friend's death. Conversely, Alexander's method of escape had saved the world several times. The boy had also managed to do the impossible, and break a prophesy. He deserved more then Rupert himself could give. He deserved a role model who was an actual hero, not a man trying to make up for his past mistakes. Someone who could teach the boy how to survive his chosen vocation. Now came the hard part though. He had to convince two he viewed as his own children to head to England.

 **XxXxX**

 _I'm not entirely sure why it happened. Before the War of Betrayal weres everywhere worked to protect the earth. Afterwords the six clans were shattered, with only my clan staying true to the task handed to us by Mother Moon. It was a brutal conflict and caused weres in general to hide from humanity. And in it's wake most weres became true monsters. While I don't know why it started, I was there when it ended. And in large part the war is why I shun my own people._

 _It was those thrice cursed wolves who kicked things off. It began as wars often do in a debate. I wasn't there when it happened though. It was only later I learned of what occurred. From what I understand, the Wolf delegation had managed to convince the Lion, Cheetah, Puma, and Dragon clan leaders that humans are a blight on the earth. 'Demon plague of the lower planes' I hear is a phrase that got bandied around in that Meet._

 _The Leopard clan at the time had been lead by a grizzled female called Razorclaw Truthseaker. She'd denounced the planned extermination of humans. Truthseaker said this was against the will of Mother Moon, and unless Mother Moon herself came to her and declared war on humans the Leopard clan would defend them unto the last. You need to understand, there were never a great number of weres of any kind. We don't breed very easily. One kit in a hundred is born one of us. The rest either remain normal humans or animals. And of the ones born a were, only a third of them actually survive their first change._

 _Thus there were maybe a thousand weres total at the time of the war. But we're hard to kill. We can take a lot of punishment, especially in our hybrid forms. And we heal quickly. Injuries which would kill or cripple a human, we recover from in minutes when in our hybrid form. And in our reversed form we heal at a third of that rate. I was born a panther, so when human I heal quickly. Not as fast as my battle form, but fast._

 _Mother Moon also bestows certain gifts upon her children to aid us. I myself have been granted the gift of healing. When in my birth form I can heal wounds by licking them. And yes, kits tend to find that embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as full grown warriors find it though. But when confronted with the choice of losing your dignity or losing your life, most will pick losing their dignity. That's beside the point though. The point is that while we are small in number, we are a hardy lot._

 _The war though, it was the stuff of nightmares. It was fought away from human encampments. That wasn't due to the other side's choice though. We of the Leopard clan were the ones who kept the war in the wilds. And we paid a heavy price for it. It took centuries for our population to recover. And even then it never again was as high as before the war. But the other clans? They were in worse shape. Mother Moon had not approved of wiping out humans._

 _She withdrew her blessings from the other clans. Where once they had low population growth, after the war the other clans were cursed. No longer would weres of the other clans ever be born. And in their animal forms they would lose all intelligence. I'd thought it was the end of their lines. But I was wrong. By the time of my birth there were legends of werewolves that infected their victims with their curse. They'd found a way around the curse and made themselves even worse monsters. Of the other clans I don't know what happened._

 **XxXxX**

"Why are we here," asked Minerva McGonagall of her companion.

Katt shrugged his shoulders. "Because most people can't disappear from one place and appear somewhere else. And considering what her first major spell was, I don't trust Miss Rosenburg's magic right now. At least, that's why I'm here. You're here because if she's as far gone as I fear I'll need help stopping her."

Katt affected a noticeable limp as he made his way through the airport. His current identity had a damaged knee from land mine shrapnel picked up when traveling Africa after all. Or at least, that's what his files said. It was a convenient excuse to have a cane around. And if people thought you needed a cane to support your weight they tended to underestimate you. They reached the arrivals terminal just as a pair of teenagers emerged. Even from that distance he could smell the corruption on the two.

It was a aroma he could never forget. And it was something he'd only encountered once before. There was a reason he'd left Sunnydale shortly after learning what the town was built around. _How did I not notice it before?_ Katt wondered. _And why do they smell faintly of wolf? I'm fairly sure none live in that area of the world._ The scent wasn't strong enough to indicate they were werewolves themselves. But it did alarm him greatly that an ancient enemy of humanity was still around.

He noted the way the boy moved. This teen was caught half way between the clumsiness of a gangly teenager and the confident gate of a seasoned warrior. Katt also marked the various weapons this teen carried. Unless he missed his guess, Katt counted five stakes hidden in various places on the teenage boy. He also spotted two crosses, one of which appeared to his trained eye to likely be a dagger. A heavily stylized dagger true, but the top of the cross was just a little too long to be otherwise.

"Do not startle them, little cousin. They are use to facing dark things in darker places." He told his companion.

The aged witch shook her head. "They are just children.

By this time the two American teens were close enough to hear his reply of "No little cousin, I would think they have not been kittens for some time."

The male American couldn't help but shudder upon hearing this assessment. There was one who had been referring to him as 'kitten' for some time now. But she was insane. This wasn't even considering the fact the woman in question was a vampire. Insanity was bad. Vampires were bad. But when one mixed both together in the same seer, it was an unmitigated disaster. Another thing which caused the teen to shudder was remembering just how close the world had come to ending, again.

His name was Alexander Harris, although he usually preferred to be called Xander. And he was a demon hunter. It wasn't a profession he'd ever expected to enter. It was just something which had happened. One day he was just a normal, if geeky, teenager. The next he was shoving a pool cue into the unliving heart of his childhood friend and dealing with man eating (quite literally) mantis women. Since then he'd seen many things both hilarious and terrifying. Most of it was terrifying.

Next to the young man was the sister of his heart. Her name was Willow Rosenburg, and Xander knew he would do almost anything to keep her safe. But at the same time she had began to worry him lately. His Willow was a genius and that made Xander proud. But sometimes she lacked common sense. Or was that uncommon sense? With no training what so ever Willow had attempted a curse that had previously required multiple people to cast. And she'd done so twice with no thought in regards to the price. She routinely hacked various databases without thought to the consequences too.

Now he was no fool. Xander had seen what happened with Amy's mother and magic. He'd read many of the watcher diaries in the school library. And while he liked to hide the capability, he'd quickly mastered several ancient and/or demonic languages during their sometimes daily research into whatever threat was now threatening the town of Sunnydale. All this had given him a healthy respect for the price magic demands. This particular curse was extremely dark, and hinted that the price was far higher then anyone should be willing to pay.

"Don't drop your guard," Harris told his childhood friend.

 **XxXxX**

 _Magic is a terrible and wonderful thing. In the hands of the just it can build a kingdom that is still talked about centuries after it's fall. When wielded by the kind it can create many things of awe inspiring beauty. It can heal and sooth the soul. It can create, or destroy. And in the hands of the wicked it can be a horror unmatched by any I've seen in my long years, except for one. Lord Acton once said that power tends to corrupt, and absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely._

 _I first witnessed this fact when Stonehenge was built. Merlin and I where traveling what would one day be known as the British Isles at the time. He had his legend to found, and I had mine that I was trying to avoid fueling. One of us was doing a good job, and it wasn't me. After consulting with local experts my friend had commissioned a great stone monument to be constructed on what he told me was a ley line nexus. The purpose as he explained to me was that this stone monument would drain off excess energy from these natural pathways, thus preventing a hell mouth from forming in the location later._

 _A side effect was that the siphoned magic would diffuse throughout the land, causing increasing numbers of magical creatures and beings to be born. It was just one of many things Merlin did in each of his cycles According to him in his original one there had been no Stonehenge. Instead a hellmouth of great power had opened at the site. This tear in dimensions had been closely guarded with the magicals who did exist spending much of their time trying to keep it sealed._

 _It was Merlin who had discovered how they form and a way to close hellmouths permanently, but only weaker ones. The one we closed in North America had been his first and only attempt. The problem came from a hedge wizard who knew enough to be dangerous, but not enough to know when not to continue. His name was Alphus Doure. And after studying the designs he'd realized what the stone structure would do._

 _It was as the construction was nearly finished that I noticed the hidden passageway into the hill. With dread settling in the pit of my stomach down the passage I crept. And there in a chamber built directly beneath the center of Merlin's standing stones stood Alphus Doure. He'd etched sigls into the dirt to channel the raw magic the stones were harnessing into himself. And from his ranting I could guess his end goal. He sought to become a god. Why? Well, according to Ol Alphus only he was intelligent enough to rule._

 _Really, it was just the same old shit on a different day. There's always someone seeking to become a god, or immortal, or a demon lord. There was no way for me to reach the man in time. Already I could see the change starting. So I threw a dagger at the sigls. They were inscribed in dirt, not carved in stone. And all I had to really do was disrupt them to ruin the ritual. What I hadn't counted on was that the magic already channeled into Doure had to go somewhere._

 _Imagine my surprise when the would-be god became a bird of fiery color? Quickly I captured this bird and brought it before Merlin. He smiled sadly and shook his head. To my annoyance the feathery would-be god took off, leaving a handful of tail feathers caught in my grasp. These I handed to Merlin with a shrug upon his asking. He called the strange bird a phoenix, the first of it's kind. As we left I shifted back into my birth form._

 _After Merlin went over the hidden chamber to ensure it wasn't a danger I'd not given it another thought for years. Annoyingly there had been a fellow member of my people in the work crew. He'd overheard my talks with Merlin and saw what had happened. And so my own legend grew as tales of how the Age Walker stole the tail feathers of the first phoenix began to spread. I do find it amusing however the way archeologists misinterpret that chamber._

 **XxXxX**

The noise of something heavy crashing down the stairs had brought everyone into the foyer. What was found there however was more then a little alarming. A black skateboard was upended at the foot of the stairs. And beside it was the aged form of Professor Minerva McGonagall. An expression of shock could be seen on her face. That, and the unnatural angle her neck was bent at told the adult and three children all they needed to know. Harris looked alarmed as well as guilty. As well he might since the skateboard belonged to him.

Harry and Willow were shocked. This was the first time Harry remembered seeing death. And while Willow had seen corpses before, this was the first time she'd seen someone who'd died of natural causes. Katt Mann on the other hand shook his head sadly. The woman he called 'little cousin' was dead and that was sad. But her scent had changed to one he was entirely too familiar with. He gathered the body into his arms and started back up the stairs. As he walked he spoke.

"Kit, I warned you to keep your toys put away. You are lucky Little Cousin is who she is. It is clear to me you need more discipline."

Xander swallowed the lump that suddenly had formed in his throat. In the two weeks since he and Willow had arrived in this country he'd learned something important. He'd learned that when Mister Mann said you needed discipline, he meant you would be in a great deal of pain. Not that his teacher was abusive or anything. No, the pain was due to the next lesson in swordsmanship being six times worse. In an effort to buy at least a little favor the teenager bent down and picked up the stick Miss McGonagall always carried with her.

The woman was a frequent guest, true. But Xander didn't know exactly what she did. Somehow the elderly woman was helping Willow. But how was the question. He examined the stick with curiosity. Then an eyebrow was quirked as he considered what the stick reminded him of. With a smirk he waved it around a bit. It would be easy enough to think this teenage boy didn't understand or care about the fact someone had just died. But anyone who did think that would be wrong.

Rather then being uncaring, he was the type of person who faced the darkness with a smile on his face and a joke in his heart. In his mind it was either do that, or curl up into a ball and whimper until something came along and killed him. That didn't mean he couldn't be serious. He understood the stakes all too well. But something hellmouthy was going on. His host wasn't acting like the old woman was dead. Which to him said she may not be. And that meant she might be some sort of demon that would need slaying. But until then he'd try to lighten the mood for his best friend who already was starting to panic.

"Abracadabra," Xander jokingly intoned as he waved the stick at Willow. He blinked as neon pink bunny ears sprouted from the top of Willow's head and her normal ears vanished.

"Alakazam?" This time the coat rack sprouted arms and began to waltz around the room.

"Hocus pocus..." Xander spoke hesitantly as he waved the stick again. Behind the teen he heard the sound metal clashing.

"Uhm... zim zim zalabim?" As the stick was waved this time Xander felt an odd tickling sensation on his head and an abrupt pain in his rear end.

 _ **XxXxX**_

 _The Bard once wrote about the line between life and death, duty and madness. He wrapped it up in melodramatic prose. "To be, or not to be," he wrote. "That is the question: Wheither 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? Or to take arms against a see of troubles? And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep... No more... and by a sleep to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that the flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there is the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?"_

 _It's quite an emotional monologue and gives one much pause for thought. But what do you do when the final sleep is denied you? When faced with soul shattering sorrow, how do you force yourself to go on when horror awaits you when your eyes close? This is something I to this day still haven't found an answer for. Mother Moon knows I've tried. I first started searching for this secret when I found a broken woman in a destroyed camp. She was an immortal, one of the lightning scents I mostly try to avoid._

 _There's damn few of them I like. Fewer still that I'd trust not to go after my head. But this was the first time I'd met one who was a broken wreck. Not physically, that's impossible. But mentally and emotionally she was shattered. I was traveling on my own at the time. Merlin and I had split up, promising to meet again in a couple centuries. He had things he had to do in the south, something about plagues and slaves. I wanted to travel east since I'd spent much of our time together in what would eventually be known as Europe._

 _Cassandra I eventually learned was her name. As I learned her sad tale her state became more understandable. She'd been captured by monsters. They kept her as a slave, killing her any time she acted in defiance. The monsters had held her captive for an unknown length of time, she didn't know or bother tracking it after all. Cassandra had lost track after the first ten summers. As we traveled I slowly began to teach her. But always I worried about the madness hanging about the lass._

 _What you experience changes you, and not always for the better. Like Hamlet she wanted vengeance with all her being. Yet equally like Hamlet she was unable to act on her desires. The reasons were different. One was an admitted coward, while the other was justifiably terrified. Fear and hate are a terrible combination. Sometimes I wonder where she is now. Has she managed to put aside her hate? Or has she let it consume her until there's nothing left?_

 _ **XxXxX**_

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office and worried. The watcher he'd left had informed the man that the Boy Who Lived had vanished. This piece of news was determined after the boy hadn't exited the house in a week. While it wasn't unusual for the family to cloister their young charge for days on end, the garden was starting to become overwhelmed with weeds. To prevent this, if for no other reason, Harry Potter would be allowed outside.

Harry Potter had not been seen since a trip to the zoo.

The front door had also been broken beyond repair. Upon visiting in person the old man had encountered another problem. Police were swarming the building. Of the family who lived there however Dumbledore could find no sign. A peak into the mind of one officer raised even more alarms to the old man. Harry Potter was not only missing, but presumed buried in an unmarked grave somewhere. Yet according to his instruments the Boy Who Lived was clearly alive.

It was times like this Albus wished he'd thought to place a tracking charm on the boy. It was possible that he could use the acceptance letter to track the missing boy down. Or rather, it would have been possible if a letter was being sent out. The book which contained owl post information listed Harry's letter as having been delivered already. This then meant that the address information was not there. This was unusual since the letters weren't sent out until the child's eleventh birthday when both parents were magical. And that day was still a week away.

Another concern, although this one was rather minor, was that the transfiguration teacher hadn't arrived at Hogwarts yet. McGonagall normally would be here by now so that she could prepare lesson plans for the upcoming school year. A tapping at his office window made Albus look up. There was a barn owl wanting entrance. A barn owl who had a message secured to one leg. He accepted the letter and offered a treat to the postal owl. With that done he put the nocturnal bird out of his mind.

As he read the missive several emotions warred within Dumbledore. Chief among them was relief since it appeared that Minerva had found the missing Harry Potter. In fact it appeared that she was staying with the boy, and intended to accompany him on the Hogwarts Express. This was an unusual deviation from her normal actions though. The young, at least when compared to Albus, woman didn't offer a reason though. Minerva cited 'personal reason' and left it at that. The letter also said she was bringing another with her, a muggle who would be taking over as the History of Magic teacher.

 _ **XxXxX**_

 _China is a beautiful land. Or it least it use to be. Before the opium fields and polluting cities there was a place that felt almost magical. Romantics talk about a time of legend. Myth speaks of great heroes who preformed larger then life deeds. It's important to remember though that myth and legend always have a basis in fact. They may be distorted, but if you dig deep enough you can find the truth behind the legend. But I digress. China was beautiful, primal, wild and untamed. More then that though, it was a land recovering from war._

 _The culture famous even today hadn't formed yet. The four horsemen hadn't ravaged the land in a hundred years. This allowed towns to form once more. The great smiths hadn't invented their craft yet, and samurai were not yet serving their liege lords. Downtrodden civilians too had not yet developed the unarmed combat methods which would be famous for generations to come. The great wall wasn't even a dream in a babe's slumber and wouldn't be for quite some time._

 _It was in this place that I met her. She called herself Ranko, but legend uses another name. Ranko was Japanese, like myself. And she too was cast adrift in a time not her own. She came from a period I had not yet experienced. And like me, she was immortal. But not a lightning-scent. Her long life was a curse gained in a place that wouldn't exist for a while. Together we traveled, two weary warriors in search of rest. Rest which was denied us time and again._

 _I'm not going to go into our adventures. Myth does that quite well. After all, who doesn't know the story of Herakles and his twelve labors? Or the travels of amazon princess Xena? Tales of the, womanizing Zeus, huntress Artemis and the seductive Aphrodite too have their origin in that flame haired warrior. But as I mentioned, myth and legend is based on truth. And in the telling that truth often gets lost. In later years I did find it amusing that Ranko was the indirect cause of her own problems. Of course Ranko is annoyed at how she's portrayed in some myths. Others she just finds amusing._

 _ **XxXxX**_

Alexander Harris was worried. He and his longest living friend had returned to Sunnydale California once more. Okay, sure, this was cause enough to worry due to the vampire and demon infestation the town had. But it wasn't why the teenager was worried. No, that dubious honor went to two other facts. The first was that a tutor would be arriving to instruct him in magic. Not the same type of magic Willow was learning either. He was going to be taught how to wave a stick around to make impossible things happen. Upon telling Giles this the older man had nearly polished his glasses into a different prescription.

The other cause for concern was another instructor Mister Mann had arranged. An old friend, the strange Japanese man had said with a smirk. Research into the name Ranma Saotome hadn't been very inspiring. There were police records going back fifteen years. They started when Ranma was a child and committing petty theft There was a long string of unpaid bar tabs under that name too. Those were probably by someone else though. Unless of course a seven year old can turn into a middle aged bald man who's overweight. Harris wouldn't have doubted that as possible based on what he'd experienced in the last year.

By all accounts this Saotome guy was a skilled martial artist. But that wouldn't mean anything once he ran into his first vampire. Curiously, according to Willow all records of Saotome stopped on his eighteenth birthday. It was like the man had fallen off the face of the planet, or died without it being reported. What this told Harris was that his would be teacher was possibly a vampire. Between a possible vampire for a teacher and unknown wizard coming to teach him magic Alexander Harris was a bundle of nerves. But it was understandable.

As the teenage boy worried and fretted in the school library an ancient tome landed on the table in front of him. As the book fell open Harris's eyes were drawn to one cryptic passage attributed to an unknown nun.

 _Night falls when weeping tree dies_

 _And Death the horse's bride_

 _When the eleventh moon fades_

 _When twice marked son_

 _with friends undone_

 _faces the monsters alone_

 _darkness will swallow the light_

It sounded ominous. More then that, it sounded like a prophesy. And if there was one thing he hated, it was prophesies. They were always too cryptic and always linked to the End Of The World. Harris didn't understand why such things could never be as simple as 'Joe Smith must stab an argosox demon in the heart with a blessed silver sword in the Maywether Bar on Earl street Huntsville California on may tenth, nine thirty pm'? Why did it always have to be stuff like this? And why did reading this make him think _I need to go to Scotland_?

"GILES!"

"Is that the White Codex? I've heard about it, but never seen the tome. Heard it was written three thousand years ago by someone called The Observer."

The speaker was a rather cute red haired teenager. Although 'cute' was probably a vast understatement. It was the safest term that came to mind though. Between the red sleeveless low cut V neck that showed off ample amounts of the teen's rather impressive bust and hip hugging silk pants this unknown girl oozed sex appeal. So much so that Alexander Harris found himself propelled backwards due to high pressure jets of blood expelling from his nostrils.

"Seriously?" The newcomer asked incredulously.

 _ **XxXxX**_

 _Have I mentioned how much I hate time travel? It can't be stated enough. Aside from the massive headache just thinking of it can cause, I've had the misfortune of encountering too many time displaced people. Myself included. One of them was a man with a rather odd title. We met when I was traveling through what would eventually be Great Briton. I hadn't been there in a while. Not since I'd last parted ways with Merlin. Okay, I will admit it had been fun traveling with him, acting like his animal familiar for a century or so. Got to meet four interesting mages who planned on building a school, of all things._

 _But anyway, I hadn't been in the Isles in more then a few centuries. So I figured why not? While there I decided to look into that school Godric had been planning on building with his friends. It had sounded like an interesting place. And since the land had been blessed by a group of druids it was considered Holy Ground. Which was also a good thing since it meant lightning-scents wouldn't bother me. I wasn't sure just where the school was suppose to be though. The four had been talking about building it 'in the north'. But didn't mention any specific areas._

 _Three weeks into my search a tear opened in the sky. And from that tear I heard a man screaming. It hadn't concerned me at the time. Said man landing on my back though, that did concern me. Since I was in my birth form it ended up taking entirely too long to recover. Not to mention that for reasons I'm still not sure about the I was unable to shift the entire time he was with me. Let alone actually leave his company. No clue how he knew I wasn't a normal panther, he just did._

 _Then again The Observer, as he came to be known, was scarily good at picking out details he shouldn't have been able to. In the ten years we traveled together he helped many villages. While I never learned how he lost an eye, it was easy to forget his disability despite the black eye patch. And every night he would work on writing a book. I guess The Observer is partly why I write these tales down. He also liked to reminisce at times._

 _This was how I learned he was from the future. A future I'd yet to see. But to be honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to see it. He spoke of a dark place. One where Evil was winning the war. He told me of a place where soulless metal monstrosities would regularly swallow people whole, only to spit them back out miles from where the creatures found their meal. Of screaming death, shat out by monstrous birds. I know now he spoke of cars and military aircraft. But back then it sounded like demons had taken over the Earth._

 _That book he worked on all the time? The Observer once told me it would be his bane and salvation. The next morning I found it sitting next to a circle of charred grass. The stench of lightning and magic was in the air. And atop the book was a letter addressed to me by name. The letter was signed The White Knight. I've only been able to open the book once. Considering the trouble that prophesy was about, I can understand why the man said this book was his bane._

 _Then again, if I hadn't read that prophesy would I have been in New Mexico when a Chinese immigrant drifter was stirring up trouble by doing good deeds? Without my shadowing Cain it's possible he wouldn't have survived some of the towns he visited. 'Wandering crane that night follows after' indeed. I was so glad when that man settled down to build a monastery in California. Maybe I should look in on his descendents some time?_

 _ **XxXxX**_

Fawkes appeared in the office with a burst of flame. This wasn't very unusual considering Fawkes was a phoenix. On the other hand the mythical fire bird didn't leave this particular office very often. It was also worthy of a raised eyebrow that Fawkes then immediately started flying out of said office. Albus Dumbledore followed his familiar, his mind filled with questions. He'd spied a scroll in the phoenix's claws. And to be honest, he hadn't realized his familiar had gone anywhere until it had returned.

It was Saturday so the students were mostly goofing off. They should be doing homework, but Albus knew that was like trying to get a welsh green to wear a tutu and dance the Nutcracker Suite. It annoyed you both and wasted time better spent on other things, like grading assignments or preparing the next weeks lessons. The fact Fawkes was heading towards the old dueling classroom raised an eyebrow. That particular classroom hadn't been used since his own seventh year.

So why were the distinctive sounds of armed combat coming from within? It was a question which vexed Albus. The question was easy to answer though. So answer it he did by following Falkes into the room. Within the disused hall he found McGonagall fencing with that odd muggle. Katt Mann was a muggle, thus should never have been able to enter Platform 9 ¾ . Never mind see Hogwarts Castle it's self. So how was it the wards accepted Mister Mann like an old friend?

Interestingly Minerva was using a saber, and not a training one either. Mann on the other hand was fending her off and retaliating with his cane. The headmaster watched as the two went through another exchange. In his life Albus had seen many things, and done almost as much. But the sight of an asian muggle dueling his transfiguration teacher was new to him. As his phoenix approached Fawkes trilled to announce himself. This in turn signaled the end of the duel.

"Much improved, little cousin. But still you need to watch your left. A message? For me? I wonder, I do, who could be sending it."

Katt chuckled at his joke. There was only one who knew where he was that also could call upon a phoenix to deliver a missive. Reading the scroll however dispelled any good mood. It had been nearly a century since the White Codex had been sighted. The message included the full text of the prophesy that had been revealed. It also mentioned that Katt's old friend would be coming with his student and why. It sounded incredibly bad. Then again most real prophesies tended to take 'bad' to Biblical proportions. It was always 'end of the world' type things.

"Dumbledore-San, what do you know of the White Codex?" Katt asked.

Albus thought for a moment before responding with "Not much I'm afraid. Legend says it can only be opened by those it speaks about. But that is it."

Katt nodded. "That is true. And it tends to find it's way to those who need to see it. I ask because the Codex has been opened once more. And I suspect it has something to do with the young Mister Potter. An old friend of mine will be bringing his student here."

"Who might this friend be?" Albus asked in concern. If still more muggles were going to be here the wards might need to be checked. Clearly they must be failing.

Katt smirked and decided to give the old manipulator a few hints. "He has lived many lives by many names. Titles too has he worn in due. God slayer, king maker, princess it's true. Famous he is, though the world knows it not. To cross her is to seal one's fate, to feed him is to watch one's plate."

Minerva paled as her teacher and friend spoke. The riddle reminded her of an event from about thirteen years previous. Being assaulted, imprisoned, and starved while in her animagus form had been bad enough. But what she'd done to that poor boy before remembering who and what she was had kept Minerva awake many nights. She'd kept tabs on the boy over the years. The last she'd heard about him though was something to do with a scroll and a delusional rich man. How a muggle got his hands on such a dangerous enchanted object she'd never know.

"Saotome is coming _here?!"_ The matronly woman exclaimed in panic.

Katt nodded. "Indeed, and he brings with him young Mister Harris as well."

 _ **XxXxX**_

Things change, yet still they remain the same. In another world a man named Ethan Rayne would have pulled a malicious prank. One that would be merely a prelude to the series of disasters of Buffy Summer's second year in Sunnydale California. But they were not the same. Rayne had arrived in town as he'd originally planned. But after discovering one of the Leopard clan in town he'd decided to wait. Those of that clan of beings tended to take a very dim view of his work, so Ethan equally tended to avoid attracting their attention.

This had turned out to be a very good decision. Because he'd been in the area Ethan had been on hand to recover parts of a particularly nasty demon lord called The Judge. Those bits and pieces he thought would make a far superior sacrifice to empower the planned ritual. That his ritual would also ensure the Judge could never again be reformed was merely icing on the proverbial cake. He didn't know why the spells used had turned a sea green Victorian gown into a more modern black as midnight strapless affair. Nor was he quite sure why one of the generic ghost costumes had glowed briefly.

Neither of these events really mattered to him. Both got chalked up to the fact that he used chaos magic. What did matter was that he'd sold that black dress to the Slayer. Ethan had been wanting to entice her into being a noblewoman from the fourteenth century. Now he had no idea what the costume would do. As Rayne preformed the final ritual he felt a wave of power wash out. It was far stronger then he'd expected. Once more he was glad not to be required to provide his own blood as the sacrifice.

On the other end of town Buffy collapsed. The dress she'd found had been perfect for a costume idea. That costume it's self was based on a comic she had seen. While the dress didn't quite fit the image, her mother would have never allowed the costume if she'd worn a black bikini. The excessive amounts of white foundation and wash out white hair dye were sacrifices that simply had to be made. It had been Buffy Summers who had collapsed. But the one who had stood up, well that wasn't Buffy.

Several streets over another teenage girl also collapsed to the ground. But when she stood her horror only grew. This was because Willow Rosenburg was no longer wearing the ghost costume. Her horror mounted still higher when she witnessed that her body, still wearing the glorified white sheet, was still laying on the ground. The pale skinned woman that had previously been Buffy Summers looked in that direction with annoyance.

Ordinarily she would not allow any spirit to escape to the human realm. But this was not an ordinary occurrence. The personification of Death had not actually existed as she did now until moments ago. Yet she was not her own being either. Death could feel both a human and demon soul within her. Both were linked together for some reason. Nor was Death's body her own it seemed. It was a physical thing, not a construct of concept made manifest.

The spirit Death could sense was not a true ghost. Rather it was a projection from a still living girl. Since her host was fond of the spirit Death decided to ensure nothing would happen to the spirit's body. Soon after taking care of that Death sensed someone on another continent. Someone who had embraced her many times yet always kept slipping away. And yet this particular soul eluding Death didn't vex her. Instead it excited her. This one was the reason She had taken this opportunity to form a personification.

XxXxX

The doors to the great hall opened with a mighty clash. And in the doorway stood Professor Quirrel. He staggered into the room looking quite faint. The blood had drained away from his face, leaving it chalk white. His eyes were wide and panicked. Something which the students had become quite use to. He always was panicky about something. It was joked that the professor had fainted both at seeing his own reflection and at seeing his shadow. If this was true or not nobody was certain.

"Troooll! There's a troll in the dungeons!" He screamed. "Just thought you should know..."

With that the habitually frightened man fainted dead away. The resulting panic was rather predictable. Orders from the headmaster for prefects to take the students back to their separate houses though caused three separate people to cry out "No" at the same time. It was loud enough that everyone heard it over the general chaos. Among the protesters were Professor McGonagall, her instructor Katt Mann, and a busty red haired teenager whom none of the students recognized.

The red head then elaborated. "That's a bad idea. You want to sent students into the dungeons, where a troll was reported? Baka! Are you trying to get them killed?"

Katt then sniffed the air subtly. "Where is Potter-san and Harris-san?"

 _Elsewhere_

As the two of them ran Xander grabbed a battle axe from one of the suits of armor. He didn't notice it turning it's head, or the paintings watching him. He was pleased when a quick test proved the weapon was sharp however. While his instructor had started teaching how to use a sword, the young man felt more comfortable holding an axe in hand. The two of them approached the bathroom just as a large green skinned humanoid smashed it's way into said room. There had been a third person with them initially, but Ronald Weasley had quickly ran off in another direction.

"You get her out of here, I'll distract big and ugly," Xander told his companion.

"But," Harry began before being interrupted.

"Relax, I do this every night."

'This' proved to be getting knocked around by something far stronger then himself. It was only years of experience with an abusive drunkard of a father and spending a year already facing the undead which prevented Xander from getting himself killed. Even so, Harry found himself impressed that his friend kept getting up. Let alone was able to get a few good hits in. The boy worried his friend was going to get killed. The ongoing battle did provide a great distraction though. This Harry took full advantage of to coax a hysterical girl out of the bathroom.

It was then that Ranko showed up. When the red headed teen joined the frey it made a marked difference. And it was fortunate indeed she arrived then. Xander had just noticed the oversized club swinging down far faster then he'd expected a troll to be capable of. At best it would have broken his leg as he tried to dodge. At worst, it would have probably killed him. Instead his combat instructor managed to kick the club out of the troll's hand. It wasn't long before Ranko had managed to knock the troll out. And rather then let it be, Xander took up his borrowed axe one last time to decapitate it.

"No," his teacher insisted.

Xander asked "Why not? It's best to kill monsters before they can kill again."

Ranko sighed. "Killing should always be a last resort. Can't blame ya with suck heads and oni. But this isn't a monster."

 **To Be Continued?**

 _ **Author Notes:**_

As I mentioned, while the character of Midnight has his origin in a White Wolf campaign or two, the were lore I'm using is my own. I did keep a few things like accidental shifting that werecats do, because I find it amusing. And the war between were clans mentioned may seem similar to the events in the original World of Darkness that initially caused the Delerium. That said, again this is NOT set in the world of darkness. Just slightly inspired by it.

Were-panthers in my world setting are the only group of were that sided with humanity. And they are long known in supernatural circles as protectors. Werewolves found a way to continue their species and the war using a curse. The other were clans, I haven't decided on if they're still around. I've been working on this story for a long time now, nearly 3 years in fact. And I still haven't made decisions on some them is question "When is the plot concluded". I don't think I'll follow the full 7 year storyline of Harry Potter, or the full 5 years of Buffy that the story could follow. But I'm not sure where I'll end it. Even so, the conclusion of the Halloween events in Hogwarts seem a good stopping point for now.

So, do you love this? Hate it? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reviews are the lifeblood of writers. Well, for ones posting on Fanfiction Dot Net they are, anyway. I always appreciate constructive criticism. Even if it's pointing out plot holes. I've used such reviews in the past to inspire additional chapters that explain certain inconsistencies. That said, while I appreciate constructive criticism I loath rabid bashing. "It sucks yur a retard" and related commentary is not constructive criticism. Nor is "crawl in a hole and die" or "shoot yourself". Such reviews will not only get ignored, I may well report them.


End file.
